


Captured by Love

by SunflowerSpectre



Series: Works of 2020 [2]
Category: DnD - Fandom, Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, small suggestive themes (in one line)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22934536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSpectre/pseuds/SunflowerSpectre
Summary: When small wood elf, Lily, is captured by Cloud Giants, she doesn't think much of it. Sure, she thinks that she will get saved, somehow, someway, by someone. But it's not the ones that rescue her that she falls in love with - it's her cellmate.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Female Elf/Original Male Storm Giant
Series: Works of 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1611430
Kudos: 2





	Captured by Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for someone on tumblr

Lily wakes up groggily, her mind fuzzy as it struggles to put together the details of what happened. She can feel the cold stone beneath her, damp with overgrown moss between her fingertips and the more her eyes begin to focus, the more she can see of what she knows has to be her prison cell. 

But what she can see isn’t really that much. Her blurry vision makes it almost impossible to see anything past the mist and fog that wafts through the room. She stands up, shivering and shaking. It takes her a moment to balance herself, swaying slightly on her toes as her ears ring and her head pounds. Despite how uncomfortable it is, it makes her want to sit back down on the stony floor and just close her eyes to let it all pass.

It’s not until she starts to walk around, trying to find and see what she can, does she figure out the approximate size of her cell. The floor space is small, but she’s not sure how high the ceiling goes - she reaches her hands as far up as she can, but can’t touch any ceiling. It seems to go up at least ten feet. Likely even higher than that. 

She finds a stony wall to the back, her fingertips can barely graze against the bottom edge of what seems to be a small opening - the window that she bets is part of the reason it’s so cold. She wonders just how big it is, but even standing her tiptoes, she can’t tell. She doubts that even if it is big enough for her to slip through, she wouldn’t be able to reach it on her own.

She can find bars on both sides of the stony back wall. The steel of them are colder than the stone and she can’t hold onto them for very long, rubbing her hands together for warmth. She brings her hands to her mouth, cupping them as she blows on them to attempt to warm them, continuing exploring as much as she can, her head still spinning with each step.  _ There has to be a way out somewhere. _

The last wall is another set of bars that seem to be placed more closely together and are thicker than the ones on the sides of the room. She can spot a lock and handle.  _ The door _ . She pulls down her sleeve as much as she can, wrapping it around her palm, feeling the cold steel through the fabric, and then pulls. It doesn’t budge. 

_ Yeah that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?  _

The more she walks around, the more her blood starts to get pumping and the more her memories of how she ended up here start to come back, very slowly. 

She remembers walking through the forest at the base of the mountains - wandering off from her village may not have been the best idea, but she needed to get some space, clear her mind. She doesn’t remember that every being a problem, she’s wandered off before - her sister, if she were home, would be the one to bring her back, but nowadays it was their mother. 

Sometimes, she got hurt before they found her. It was bound to happen, but it was always her fault for not being careful enough and she never really minded the small cuts that took too long to heal or the sprained bones or bruises that never returned to her normal skin tone for months. Scars that are permanently littered against pale skin from clumsy accidents and patches of skin that just didn’t quite return to her normal skin tone.

But this time… It was different. She remembers the forest becoming foggier than it normally was. The mist had been so thick that clouded her vision and filled her lungs. She got turned around, a bit lost, and then a pale, towering figure larger than some of the trees had appeared and -

_Oh - that’s what happened._ She got kidnapped (elf-napped?) by cloud giants. _Huh, wonder how I’m gonna get out of this one?_

* * *

Lily got used to the everyday routine - the occasional, expired or dirty food that would get slipped into her cell and the quiet, deafening silence that only ever got broken from the screams of someone getting tortured somewhere else in the area; she is never sure if it is a different room nearby or if it is somewhere else entirely, the silence with the open walls make sound travel and the fog makes it near impossible to see where anything beyond her cell door is. 

She tried to make noise to fill in the silence and boredom, but when she got yelled at for it, she stopped. But if she sings quietly enough, or pulls her shirt over her head to break up the sound of her voice so it doesn’t bounce off the walls, she can still find comfort in her mother’s old lullabies that lull her into a state of peaceful bliss. It makes it easier to ignore where she is, how the cold walls nip into her skin through her clothes and how the lack of bed makes her joints ache. Despite it all, she is hopeful that she will get out of here - somehow, someway. She just hasn’t figured it out yet.

But she  _ has _ figured out the normal routine of the prison -  _ Castle? Dungeon? _ \- that she’s captive in. She figured out the approximate time when she can expect cloud giants to storm through and hand out breakfast. She relishes in the times that someone gets shoved in the cells beside her, but the cloud giants don’t seem to put anyone near her after they learned how much she talks to them. 

She eventually figured out that there are guards standing at the end of the hall by a tall door - on that one day that the mist wasn’t as thick, she could see that she’s in one of about ten or so cells that reach the ceiling in a long hall, one end holds the door and the other a staircase. She notices that the ones that get dragged down the staircase don’t come back. She learned how to mumble a song under her breath and that the cloth of her shirt does a better job at plugging her ears, muffling them from the screams that always follow every time that someone goes down that staircase. 

She’s learned a lot, she thinks, and is proud of herself for learning so much from seeing so little. Her sister would be proud, she imagines, knowing that she’s doing such a good job at ‘observing her environment.’ She has never been quite the adventurer her sister is, but her sister still teaches her little things when she visited in between the time that her sister is saving her from her forest walks. Like how to hide a knife. How to throw a proper punch so her knuckles don’t bruise and ache. 

She misses her sister, she realizes, on one of the days that her heart seems heavier than usual and her eyes are just as misty as the cell. She lays her head back against the wall she leans against, the harsh cold against her neck keeps her grounded in reality and helps with the soreness she’s developed there from laying on the floor without any cushions.  _ Ohh cushions, _ she thinks wistfully. When she gets home, she’s going to buy even more cushions for her bedroom. Bury herself in blankets too. Maybe eat a whole pie -  _ or two pies,  _ her tongue darts out to lick at her bottom lip.

She’s torn from her wistful memories and hopeful thinking when she hears the door to the cell to her left open. 

“Are we sure we want to put them together? That little elf yaps with every bit of meat we toss near her like a lost little dog.”

She doesn’t hear any of the guards talk very often - but when they do, she notices that it usually involves her. They have a lot of nicknames of her, some not so good. They don’t listen to her when she corrects them on her name, but they don’t punish her for it either. 

The other guard mumbles something she doesn’t catch and the door at the hall is kicked open. She can somewhat see who it is - what the general shape of their silhouette is - through the mist. He’s a man - a giant, she knows, but not a cloud giant like her captors. Storm giant, maybe. Blue skin, she thinks, but she can’t see much of his details through the mist at this distance. She can, however, make out his muscles and broad shoulders that fight against the two guards holding him back as they drag him into the hall.

Yelling, shouting, and cursing booms through the hall. It echoes around her like an attack, but something tells her that this isn’t just another one headed for the mysterious area downstairs. He doesn’t beg for mercy, plead for his life, or try to bargain with any of the guards, instead he spews venom, hatred, and pride. 

She doesn’t cower from the loud voice that screams of corruption among his kin, something about the void, but she doesn’t catch all of it - or at least, she can’t make heads or tails of what he means by his words. He seems to think he knows what’s talking about, his voice full of solid belief and confidence. Like a man who knows that he’s right and the others are wrong for whatever it is that they’re doing that he seems to disagree with.

Lily stands at the edge of her cell, peeking through her bars as much as she can to get a better look as the guards all but throw the man into the cell beside her. He lunges at them, spitting at them with both curses and actual spit, and for a moment, Lily wonders if he will actually break out. But the door shuts just in time, his large form ramming into the bars with a loud  _ clang _ that looks like it hurts as much as it  _ sounded. _

He doesn’t seem phased, his face pressed against the cold bars, his arm immediately shoots between the bars just enough to grab the collar of the nearest guard. He yanks them hard, and their head rams into the bars with all of their weight. The guard goes down, with others rushing to pick him up. 

Confident and satisfied that he got at least one good hit in, he laughs when one of the guards grabs his collar through the bars and spits out threats that reach deaf ears. The guard spits at him and drops him, turning as the other cloud giants begin to disperse aside from the two guards at the door. 

The man wipes at the spit on his cheek with disgust and a bit of a hearty laugh. He turns to admire what pit he’s going to be living in for a while - he reckons that he’ll find his way out soon enough - and spots the small, petite face that’s peering into his cell. ‘

  
Blue eyes peer at him through cold cell bars. Pale skin that’s beat red from the cold, speckled with freckles is framed by messy red-ish hair. It’s hard for him to make out just exactly the color of it with the mist creating damp spots along it that darken it, making it seem mangled as it clings to her skin. He frowns at the long ears that stick far from her head, the pale skin of her ears are tinged blue and red. She looks lost. Desperate maybe. Despite her sad overall appearance that makes her look like she’s two nights away from death, her eyes aren’t dimmed with the loss of life and instead are lit up with an inner hopeful fire. 

He takes a step forward to her and when she doesn’t step back, he continues until he’s able to kneel down to look at her in the eyes at her level. She looks worse up close, he realizes, with hollow cheeks from undernourishment and sunken eyes. 

Up close, he can see just how small she really is - fragile, frail. Her body is just as petite as her face, with small shoulders that are bony from lack of food. She does not carry much weight on her at all, really. 

With a dejected sigh, realizing that he can’t exactly leave her like this though his ways of helping her are limited. Despite the cold that’s starting to nip at his exposed skin, he takes off one of the sashes around his waist. He has enough weight and muscle to him that the lack of what he used as a belt will not make much of a difference.

He holds it out to her, with a stubborn gruff, “Put it around your ears before you get frostbite and lose ‘em.”

Long, slender fingers graze against his palm as she accepts the gift with a bright smile that makes his chest tighten. She takes his advice, wrapping it around her head like a shawl and tying it around the bottom of her chin. She tucks in the ends of her ears and can immediately feel more of a difference with the small bit of protection.

“Thank you.”

Her voice is soft, wistful, and a bit airy. He wonders if she can talk any louder if she tried, not knowing exactly how much water they’re going to be given in the cells. He nods his acknowledgement and stands sternly, starting to turn away from her so he can start to think about how he’s going to get out.

“ _ Wait -  _ “ She cries to him, desperate, almost as if it’s been too long since she’s had someone to talk to. He imagines, however, that the cloud giants don’t make great conversationalists. He doesn’t turn around to face her, but he does stop, lending her an ear to hear what she may have to say. 

“Thank you,” she continues, her voice quivering as her shoulders shake. “My name’s Lily.”

He pauses, running her name over his lips before he decides that the name suits her. He doesn’t debate much on whether or not he should introduce himself, knowing that it’s always better to make allies in unexpected places than enemies.

“Ular. My name is Ular.”

* * *

Giving her his name, he realizes, is both the best and worst decision that he’s ever made. He sits at the back of his cell, causally, trying to catch what sleep he can, but Lily drawls on and on, happily chatting to him. As much as he’d like to say that he tuned her out, he listens to each word that comes out of her mouth. Having no contact with anyone else can be hard on someone. Solitary confinement is a harsh punishment for a reason. 

So despite how much she can talk, how much she says his name to wake him up in the middle of the night to tell him about a dream that she had, how she prattles on about fairly useless things like the time her sister’s foot got stuck in the river when they were kids and when they pried her out of the thick mud, they ended up getting so messy that they had chores for months as punishment, he listens.

In a way, he guesses, her long drawn and constant interaction keeps the both of them sane.

Lily doesn’t die as soon as he thought she would. Not to say that he  _ wanted  _ her to die - he is starting to like the constant late night talks despite never being the one who talks during them. He has to admit in different circumstances, he may have thought she was cute - in a lost puppy that you have to take home sort of way (not that he would  _ ever _ tell anyone that). She has a nice voice, when he gets past the roughness caused from a lack of water, and he’s heard her sing a few times, despite the way she sung into her shirt so the guards wouldn’t catch her. 

But she is part of the smallfolk. She’s an elf. Elves are small people with small hands and shoulders and fragile bones and skin that tear delicately like thin parchment; or so he’s heard. He’s always believed it, though, despite Lily being the first one he’s met. It just confirms exactly what he thought. Elves are too frail to survive. Too frail to push through harsh conditions and war. Small little angels, some would even say, that need the world to look after them because they’re meant for better places - places of peace, places that don’t have a need for warriors, fighters, and weapons. 

Lily’s condition only reinforced that she isn’t going to survive. She looks small - small by even her kin’s standards. Skin that lacks luster and colors that aren’t from the cold making her skin raw. A walking skeleton sent to haunt him with limp hair and coughing fits that when they went too quiet afterward, he thought maybe she  _ did _ die. 

But there must be something strong about her. Something beneath her skin, something that goes beyond just what she looks like, or the condition of her body. Because when she looks at him, her eyes are lit up with fire and joy. Their color and life reminds him of the skies that he misses. She looks to him as if she’s doesn’t even  _ think _ about giving up - as if that thought never even occurs to her. 

_ A strong petal-ed Lily then,  _ he muses. A lily flower that looks so delicate, soft to the touch, but come the winter, their stem pushes back through the soil next spring.

  
He gives a small smile, despite himself, as he listens to the time that she got lost so far into the woods that she thought that she entered a new world entirely. When her voice dies down and into a cough, he tells her a folk story from his home. He watches as she listens as intently as she talks, hanging onto each word that he says and jumps at every exaggerated ‘scary’ part of the story that he knows is usually reserved for small children.

* * *

Ular has accepted that he would die in his cell or on a guillotine. He had hoped, once upon a time, that he would have been able to escape until that happened. Despite the way that his body is starting to break itself down for energy, eating away at the muscles and fat. He tries to jump at the top of his cell for exercise, among other things, to try to keep his muscle up as much as he can, but he knows that it’s fairly hopeless when he doesn’t have enough food to make up for it.

He sighs deeply, knowing that the guards are feeding him less than others, as a punishment. Spite. But he won’t buckle under the pressure, won’t beg for more, and he will take what is - or isn’t - given to him. But then a piece of bread brushes against his leg and he sees Lily trying her best to shove him half of her dinner. 

She has bags under eyes that look dimmer and more clouded, but she gives a bright smile and motions for him to eat. She sits beside the bars of her cell, as a way to sit beside him, as she eats her half. 

He doesn’t turn it down and smiles, waving the piece of bread at her as way of saying thanks and eats for the first time in a week.

* * *

Neither of them are sure why or how, but when loud fighting echoes through the entire building, both of them stand at attention as the mist and fog start to clear out, disappearing into nothing. The two guards that were at the door are rushing out in a frenzy, yelling war anthems at the top of their booming lungs. They share a look - a look of  _ what’s going on, do you know?  _ But no answers are spoken.

Ular prepares to fight when the silence overcomes the building. Considering that the mist and fog have yet to return, he knows deep down that the cloud giants have faced a loss today - and they’ll suffer it for a while, at least, and that brings him comfort. But that doesn’t mean that anyone who may be coming is a friend - and someone is coming, he can hear footsteps running toward their door frantically.

Ular looks to Lily, whose eyes are wide as her chest rapidly rises and falls, desperate for air that’s not tainted by water. 

“I’ll protect you.”

The vow startles even him, his voice firm and grounding as she nods her head, eyes bristled with tears as she gives silent thanks. But he knows that he means it - that he will protect her. Whatever comes through the door, he will be ready for it. He will fight tooth and nail to protect her as much as he could, even if he didn’t fully understand why. 

But the door is swung open by a small party of recognizable heroes - he knows their faces from art of them that have littered pubs and castles and he breathes a sigh of relief - one that he can tell is shared by Lily.

_ They’re saved. _

* * *

Lily listens as the heroes spew tails of void corruption, of rotten giants, and evil that’s starting to plague the lands. She listens as their voices start to spin in her head, their words blurring together as she tries to process it. She sits down on a log -  _ a log whose bark scratches against the skin of her thighs, her clothes being torn, old and barely functional, but it doesn’t matter because she’s outside, she’s outside for the first time in a long time and the sun is warm, hot against her skin as she breathes in the familiar scent of pine.  _ But she can’t enjoy it. The heroes are speaking too fast for her to comprehend and the world is  _ spinning.  _

A large calloused hand rests on her shoulder. The size of the palm encasing most of her arm with it. The warmth of someone else - someone familiar, someone she knows, someone she  _ trusts.  _ She looks up to see Ular, looking down on her with a nod. She rests one of her hands - bony and cracked - on top of his despite the difference of the size of their palms.

“Wait - what does any of this have to do with me?”

Ular could ask the same question - he doesn’t understand why the heroes would risk such a dangerous mission to get her, why they would pull her outside as if they don’t have a second to spare - only grabbing him at Lily’s protests, something he will have to repair her for even if he doesn’t know how yet. 

The heroes share a hesitant look, mutter incoherent answers, and as the chaos of the rescue dwindles, a camp is set to rest for the night as the sun starts to set. They feed Lily - and him - give them a tent to share, but Ular refuses to stay watch outside of her tent. Recognizable heroes or not, he isn’t going to sleep and leave her defenseless against people they don’t know.

The next day, another hero arrives. One who the others part for and holds their head high. They meet Ular’s glare evenly before they sigh and gesture for them to sit down. Ular opts to stand, standing behind Lily like a watchful guard, eying them all in a way that makes a few of them squirm.

This one gives them an answer and Ular listens in disbelief as they explain the importance of Lily in the grand schemes of things. Fate, the hero says, destinies her as the key to their survival. But Ular thinks fate is stupid for putting that type of weight on shoulders that are smaller than his palms.

The heroes don’t know what to do with her though - to be honest, Lily doesn’t know what to do with herself either. It’s a lot to take in at once, but she gives a smile as she tells them that she will help as much as she can. That if they think she can help save the world, then she will. But they explain that they’re not ready for her - not yet. They heard where she was being kept and were passing by. They were going to come to try and find her later when they were prepared, but they couldn’t pass this chance up.

Ular is the one who proposes the solution, knowing exactly how he repay Lily for convincing the heroes to set him free with her.

* * *

Ular takes her into an abandoned city - an old Storm Giant city, he tells her - but still functional and hidden. He explains to the heroes, as they say their goodbyes, that Lily will be here when they need her. That this city will keep them safe until it’s time for Lily to save the world with them. When Lily asks him if he is going to go with her when they do, he can’t give her an answer. 

The city is different to Lily, who takes in the warm stones covered in moss and tall buildings with empty fountains. It’s different than the fabric tents of her village, their mud huts for winter. There’s no children running around with laughter, no older women to scold Lily for wandering too far, and no family to hold her. 

_ Empty.  _ She swallows thickly and looks to the storm giant beside her. She gives him a wry smile,  _ but not alone. _

* * *

I t’s their new normal, both of them fall into a routine that becomes their new day-to-day schedule. Months pass by without too much notice, but Lily still feels confined by stone walls that block her from the trees. She also knows that the heroes are taking too long, wondering sometimes if they do plan on coming back for her. She sometimes wonders that if they don’t, why are they stuck here? 

But nonetheless, Lily is happy and Ular tells her to focus on the day they woke up this morning to, not the one they’ll face when they wake tomorrow.

Ular changed, Lily notices over the course of them living together. Ular had picked out a specific building for them, insisting that they need to stay together. It’s one of the smallest buildings of the city, with open windows and a built in pit. It’s easy to defend, Ular had told her, but it had one bedroom that Ular had drug in a second, old, beaten and much used bed into. 

He gained his muscles back and more. He looks stronger than ever - healthier than ever. She doubts that there is any enemy that could take him again - she thinks that he’s the strongest man she’s ever seen… the nicest one too. She’s always put flowers along the room to make it seem more lively, but he doesn’t take them down. 

He doesn’t tell her that her ideas are stupid when she wants to take water from the nearby lake to try to refill some of the fountains. She wants to make this place a home, she tells him, not another prison. He comes back one night with the materials to make fresh beds with the softest blankets she’s seen and the most comfortable pillows. She tells him of her dream to buy as many cushions as she can - he tells her that if they buy a few every so often, it will eventually come true. She kisses his cheek that day. He had kissed her the next - with lips that were mature and slightly chapped, but he insists on the separate beds for now. She catches him muttering about a need for self-control. She doesn’t push it.

Ular notices that Lily has changed too. With fuller cheeks and high cheekbones that highlight bright eyes. Her hair is full of life and it’s full, shiny and she teaches him how she weaves the braids into her long locks. He isn’t sure how he got into the habit of undoing her braids at night and interlocking them again come morning, but she blooms under the attention and her hair is soft in his palms.

She’s still small and he presses her to eat more, train more, but then she explains that she’s always been smaller than her kin. How no one can tell her why when she falls, she gets bruises that don’t heal for months. So he teaches her how to use her small size against the enemy and she lands her first hit on him within a week.

When they get the same bed, he learns that Lily isn’t as innocent as she looks. As he lays there in bed, Lily is cradled against his chest with soft sighs. She fits perfectly in his arms. 

“You don’t like destiny,” Lily muses, her voice rumbling against his chest. He gives a small snort in response and she laughs, her breath tickling his skin.

“I know, I know… But what about the future,  _ do  _ you like? There has to be something that you do want in your future, something that you think about or worry about. You can’t just focus on now all the time without thinking about those sorts of things.”

Ular pauses and he takes in a whiff of her hair, humming contently before he answers.

“You. I want you in my future.”

Lily hums, a smile dancing on her lips. He doesn’t offer any explanation, no long-worded love confession that would make a poet jealous. He doesn’t have to. She’s heard all that she needs to hear, knows what she needs to know.

“I love you too,” she mumbles, closing her eyes as she feels his chest rumble with joyful laughter.


End file.
